Stab in the Dark (8 page)

T
OLL LOOKED
at Knox and at the gun in his hand and staggered to a table hinged to one of the cabin’s bulkheads. There was a bottle there along with a water carafe and some glasses.

Knox said, “No. Stand still. I’m not Binks. ?’ll use this.”

Toll stood still. Knox had his first really good look at the man. He was not big like Beeker. His weight had come from his height and his heavy bone structure. He was a big man, all joints, but there was little meat on him. He had rounded shoulders from an obviously permanent stoop.

“I want a drink,” Toll said.

“I’ll shoot you first in the kneecaps,” Knox said in a pleasant tone of voice. “Shut up and sit—right there.”

Toll sat on the floor. Knox got to his feet and tested his balance. It was adequate. He glanced at Binks. He was still on his back, motionless. Knox walked toward Toll, humming softly. Toll lifted huge hands in a protective gesture. Knox feinted at Toll’s face with his left. When Toll turned to avoid the blow, he exposed the side of his head. Knox cracked the gun barrel down beside his ear. Toll fell sideways, not out but too dazed to have any resistence in him.

“I don’t like sadists,” Knox said to him. “Not even when they’re educated.” He went to work using the ropes he had been tied with. He laced Toll’s wrists and ankles, putting his wrists behind his back and then running a cord from them to the ankles so that Toll was tied in a bow. He did the same with Binks. Then he went through their pockets, dumping everything in two heaps. Toll had confiscated his wallet and keys. He took them.

Knox got himself a drink of water from the carafe, gargled and spit into a little corner sink. He smelled the whiskey in the bottle, judged it drinkable, and took a deep pull. That helped. He went to a porthole and drew back a curtain. It was growing light outside but all he could see was whitish, furry fog.

Drawing water from the sink tap, he poured a pitcherful on each man. Then he went to the bunk where he had piled the contents of their pockets and began his examination.

Toll’s first name was Jacob. He carried a local driver’s licence and a liquor licence. If he worked, his wallet contained no signs of it. Outside of his identity cards, he carried fifty dollars.

Knox looked over his take from Binks. He had been carrying nearly five hundred dollars. His wallet also revealed a permit for the gun, a California driver’s licence, and another card with his picture and thumbprint on it. This guaranteed him to be a legally licenced private detective and was made out by the State of California. His address was in Los Angeles, and his first name was Albion. Knox worked over Binks’ wallet some more and found some receipts with Los Angeles addresses. On the back of one was scribbled the telephone number, Merkle 3-4220. As far as Knox knew, this city was the only one with that exchange. He kept the receipt and returned everything else to the wallet.

Both men were beginning to look more alive now. Toll was shaking off his stupor and wriggling as he made an effort to sit up. When he found how he was tied he began to swear at Knox. An education was a wonderful thing, Knox thought. He had never heard such an erudite collection of obscenities before. Knox ignored him and helped Binks’ recovery with another carafe of water. When Binks showed less glaze in his eyes, Knox put the whiskey bottle to his lips and helped him drink.

Binks twisted his head and wriggled his jaw. “Jeez.”

“Who hired you?” Knox asked amiably.

“Go to hell.”

“You’re in no position to talk big.” Knox shifted the gun, letting it point at Binks’ midriff. “I can shoot you and claim self defense. I have the marks from Toll’s fists and the cuts inside my mouth from the gag to prove it. Want to see how I can get away with murder, Binks?”

Binks began to sweat a little. “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s the so-help-me truth. I was just hired like you. It was by phone and I got expense money and a retainer in the mail, cash.”

Knox was tempted to believe him. He said, “What about your playmate here?”

“I was told to look him up when I got here. I did and he said to keep an eye on the Deane dame. I did and he pulled me off and put me on the guy in overalls. Then the dame again. I don’t know what the hell it’s all about.”

“You were following me, not her tonight.”

“Toll was in the lobby with me when you tried to sucker me out. We just set up a trap for you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Binks said. “Ask him.”

Toll had given up swearing and was rolling around trying to free himself. But Knox had taken his time on the tying job. He wasn’t having any success. Knox went to him and held out the bottle. Toll looked surprised and then suspicious, but he stayed still long enough to gulp a little of the whiskey.

“I want to be sure you’re wide awake,” Knox told him. “As I told Binks, I can commit murder and get away with it. If you’re awake, it’ll hurt more when I shoot you.”

Toll showed his fear plainly. He swallowed and ran his tongue around his lips. “What do I know?” he demanded almost plaintively. “Nothing. I get my orders by telephone. I get paid by cash in the mail.”

Knox was willing to believe Binks but not Toll. He said, “What’s your business?”

“I’m a private cop, like you.”

“Where’s your licence?”

“I—I left it home.”

Knox sighed and cocked the gun, sighting it for Toll’s kneecap. “You claim to be an educated man. That doesn’t give you the right to think me a fool. Now let’s start over.”

“All right. I do whatever comes along. Right now, this has come along. I’m doing it.”

“What it ‘this?’ ”

“I was given orders to give Binks orders. He told you what they were. Then I was told to watch you and find out what your interest was.”

“My interest in what?”

“The Deane woman. Jock Dylan.”

He was too eager to talk now. Knox said, “Who owns this boat?”

“I do,” Toll said. “I was thinking of doing some charter work.”

It smells more like fish.”

“It was reconverted,” Toll said. “It’s for cruising now.”

“Where’d you get the cash?”

Toll said stiffly, “I earned it working at the airplane plant.”

“And picked up a thirty thousand dollar rig—like that.” Knox grunted his skepticism. “Who do you take orders from?”

“I don’t know. I just call in.”

“What do you call, Merkle 3-4220?”

Toll’s nod was too quick. “I ask for Mitch.”

Knox smiled gently. “I’ll try that number—and ask for Mitch. I’ll do it when I’ve got you with me. And if anything happens, I’ll have things fixed so you’ll be handed over to Mel Beeker and Maddy Keehan. Especially Keehan. You’ll like him.”

From the expression on Toll’s face, Knox decided that he already knew Keehan. Knox wondered what would happen if he should ask for Mitch. He would probably end up with an icepick in the eye.

Knox said, “There’s no point in my sticking around since you don’t know anything.” He covered a yawn. “I’ll be seeing you.” He started for the door and had his hand on the latch when Toll yelled.

“You can’t leave us tied like this!”

Knox looked back, his expression puzzled. “Why not? It won’t be for long. Keehan will have a squad car here for you as soon as he gets my call.”

Toll said, “Wait a minute, Knox. Wait just a moment.”

“I’ve waited long enough. I’m tired.”

“No,” Toll said. “Don’t go. Listen to me. We can make arrangements. Arrangements suitable to both of us.”

Knox waited, looking, not speaking. Binks was silent. He didn’t look nearly as worried as Toll. Knox thought that was probably because he didn’t know Keehan as well.

“?’ll tell you what I know,” Toll said eagerly. “I’ll tell you everything that I know.”

“And what do I do?”

“Let us loose,” Toll said. “Just let us loose. We’ll leave town. Go away from here. I swear it.”

Knox glanced at Binks. “What do you say?”

“California, here I come,” Binks said. “I don’t know about him, but I’m ready to leave any time.”

Knox grunted and went to where the little man lay. Grabbing him by the collar, Knox dragged him across the floor to the door. He opened it and looked up and down a short corridor. It was empty. Leaving Binks for a moment, he made a quick trip of exploration. There was a galley at the bow end, a tiny bath and a smaller cabin opposite the one he had been in. Opening the door to that cabin, Knox hauled Binks in there. He left him in darkness and returned to Toll.

“I’m listening,” Knox said. He poured himself a light drink and mixed it with water.

Toll licked his lips. “I was working in the airplane plant, being rehabilitated …”

“What were you sent up for?”

Toll looked sulky. “A stupid confederate of mine slipped or I wouldn’t have been sent up.” He stopped, saw Knox’s waiting expression, and added, “I was simply relieving the gullible of their money.”

“Confidence game?”

“That’s what the police called it. Bunko artist.” He sounded injured. “A crude term.”

“Naturally,” Knox said. “You’re an artist.”

“I am.”

The man was obviously slightly mad. And he had an exaggerated opinion of his own ability. If he had been a bunco artist, he also would fancy himself as an actor. It was, Knox thought, something worth knowing. But he was tired of this. He said, “That’s enough background. Now talk—and I want all of it.”

“I was working,” Toll said. “I received a telephone call. A man’s voice asked me if I wanted a more lucrative position. All I had to do was move into the hotel and watch a certain person. I did, for two weeks. I reported every day by telephone.”

“Who was this certain person?”

“A man named Leo Auffer.”

“You say you watched him for two weeks. Why did you stop?”

Toll wasn’t the actor he thought he was. His hesitation was obvious. “He apparently left the city.”

“I’m not the most patient man in the world,” Knox said.

Toll said, “He was killed yesterday.”

“By whom?”

“I wish I knew,” Toll said.

Knox snorted at him. “That’s the truth, I swear,” Toll insisted. “This is exactly what happened, Knox. In the afternoon, Auffer came out of the coffee shop and went into the men’s room. I followed him. He went out the side entrance, to the rear, and down into the second basement. I lost him at first. I thought he was in the first basement. By the time I was certain he had gone on down, quite a while had passed. So I don’t know what he was doing during that period.”

“What is this leading up to?” Knox asked curiously.

“I prefer to tell the story in my own way,” Toll said.

Knox shrugged. Toll went on, “When I did succeed in locating
him
, he was at the end of a corridor. He was coming from a door at one side and going into a door across from it. He was carrying a woman. I couldn’t see too clearly but I distinctly saw her skirt and legs. Unfortunately, he saw me.”

“You don’t know who the woman was?”

“No. I didn’t see her that clearly.”

“Then?”

“Then,” Toll said readily, “I tried to get away from him. But he had a gun. I was halfway down the corridor when he came behind me and ordered me to stop. Since I never carry a lethal weapon, I was handicapped. I had to allow him to come up to me. I thought he would question me but he seemed to have something else more important to do. He struck me with the gun. When I awakened, I was in a closet filled with brooms and cleaning implements. I assume he planned to return to me and was killed before he had the opportunity.”

“I can see Keehan believing that one,” Knox said.

“It’s the truth.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Knox said. He was sure that Toll would have concocted a better story than this if he were lying. He made a shrugging motion. “So you were hired to follow Leo Auffer. And you were told to have Binks check on Cora Deane.”

“Yes, that’s substantially correct.”

“Hired by whom?”

“I don’t know,” Toll said. “I took orders by calling that telephone number you somehow procured.”

“What if I call and ask for Mitch?”

“That’s a signal that something is wrong.”

“Then who do I ask for?”

“No one. I just ring and wait. When the phone is answered, I don’t say anything until I’m spoken to.”

Knox didn’t like that but he had other questions to ask and he deferred it for the moment. “What is Eddie Pillow doing in this?”

Toll looked blank. “Eddie Pillow?”

Knox shrugged again. “Why were you following Auffer? Why was Cora Deane being followed by Binks? What is all this?”

“I don’t know,” Toll said. “Truly, I do not know.”

He was almost convincing. Knox tried again, “Who killed Leo Auffer?”

“I don’t know that either. I didn’t.”

And, Knox thought, he was afraid the police would think he did. A man with a record was always suspect.

Knox went to Toll and worked on his knots a little. Straightening, he said, “An hour’s excercise will get you loose. Then start running.”

“I fully intend to.”

Knox didn’t believe him. He wished now that he had not made the bargain, that he had turned Toll and Binks over to Mel Beeker and let him get the information. But it was too late now. He only hoped Beeker wouldn’t find out about this. If he did, Knox knew that their relationship would be more than strained; it would probably become non-existent.

Turning out the light, he crossed the hall to begin questioning Binks. He looked for a moment at the puddle of rope on the floor, shrugged, and went up on deck. Binks was apparently a better escape artist than Knox had suspected.

Daylight was in full swing when he reached the deck. He looked around, checking the location of the little pier where the fishing boat was moored. He saw that he was in the northern part of town, an area devoted to fishing. The street the pier led to was only a block from one cluttered with restaurants, grog shops, and fishing supply houses. There was little business at this hour and this time of year.

A short hike took him to a bus line. The bus let him off a block from the hotel. He went to his room wearily, the idea of sleep more alluring at the moment than that of food. His room was dark with the curtains drawn against the foggy morning. He flicked on the light and then stopped, his hand still in the air.